


Power

by VentingNonsense



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Gen, POV Original Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-11-23 14:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18153353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VentingNonsense/pseuds/VentingNonsense
Summary: CYOA v5 Gimel. A young woman navigates through her daily life in Brockton Bay, trying to make a living despite the odds against her. Of course, she draws all sorts of unwanted attention by virtue of being a very powerful rogue parahuman, but she tries her best to be a good person.





	1. Gestation 1.1

**Author's Note:**

> CYOA v5 Gimel: https://imgur.com/a/jypS4
> 
>   * GESTATION: 15/15
>   * FOREIGN ELEMENT (THE OUTSIDER ENTITY): 12/12
>   * ROGUE
>   * BODYGUARD DUTY (close enough)
>   * ACT OF NEUTRALITY: 9/12
>   * INSERT (F)
>   * TEENAGER
>   * HIGH SCHOOL
>   * BUDGET COSTUME
>   * GIFT: METAKNOWLEDGE
>   * STEALTH: 6/12
>   * HACKING: 5/12
>   * MARKSMANSHIP: 0/12
>   * SURVIVAL: -3/12
>   * FIRST AID: -6/12
>   * INVESTIGATION: -8/12
>   * ROUGH START (x2): -4/12
>   * SECOND TRIGGER: -8/9
>   * MEMORY DEATH: -4/9
>   * IDENTITY REVEAL: -1/9
>   * PLOT CONVENIENCE: -2/9
>   * SECRET LAIR: -4/9
>   * BLINDSPOT: -7/5
>   * POWER SLOT: -7/4
>   * SLAUGHTERHOUSE NINE: -3/6
>   * ENDBRINGER TARGET: 0/10
>   * UNLIMITED SHARD WORKS (*): 0/3
>   * POWER SIGHT: 0/2
>   * POCKET ROOM: 0/1
>   * MACGYVER: 0/0
> 

> 
> Notes: I chose a Rogue with Bodyguard Duty because that’s pretty much the closest option to "parahuman shard consultant" Gimel offers. I originally wanted a power nullifier, but I went the exact opposite route when I found that a) Gimel doesn't really provide what I want, and b) I just wanted Hatchet Face.
> 
> Blindspot counters Plot Convenience but I’m trying to cover my bases w.r.t discovery of the fictional reality, so I took both. Secret Lair and Pocket Room were just conveniences, honestly. Those and Power Slot for MacGyver honestly aren’t necessary at all, but I figured it would round out the rest of the concept. I actually spent a lot of time _getting rid_ of stuff, because my character concept really doesn’t need very much except...well:
> 
> I’m not sure why Unlimited Shard Works + Power Sight is only 8 points, since USW only works on powers you can see and Power Sight basically lets you see the powers if you see the person, but y’know, I’m not complaining. I know there’s at least one fic that basically just says ‘it doesn’t work like that’ but, well, I’m _making_ it work like that. (Outsider Entity perks!) I also know that I’m not the only one to do this combo but oh well. I really feel that USW and Kingmaker should be switched, since Kingmaker actually relies on having followers/friends/a team, whereas second-triggered USW+PS under Abaddon makes my character a _sight-based permanent Eidolon_ , but again. Not complaining, just observing. I will complain that Slaughterhouse Nine and Endbringer Target flaws will probably kill me dead, but since my character is basically Eidolon, I can probably pull something out of my ass by then.
> 
> I've been hesitant to post this for about a month now. I think Wildbow's fandom scares me.
> 
> I’m awful at writing and I’m brand new to anything related to Worm so let me know if I’ve gotten anything completely wrong. Some things being off are to be expected, though, due to the nature of the story. This is not a self-insert in any way, but the CYOA v5 Gimel sheet gave me ideas for a character and I wanted to work with her. Please enjoy.

_Two massive superstructures shift along with each other, on the same guiding Path to a new location. As they arrive, they slow down._

_Suddenly, a calamity: another superstructure collides directly in their Path. The collision shakes off some of their Shards; the three Entities are unnoticeably, irrevocably damaged._

_The third Entity continues its trek; the first two slow down and proceed with their original Path._

_And throughout the exchange, countless Shards fall to the planet below..._

* * *

I blinked myself into awareness, dimly noting the sound of my alarm clock blaring. Groaning, I forced myself out of bed to shut the damn thing off, before heading to the bathroom. Dimly, I noted the flickering light taking longer to fully illuminate than usual, and I made a mental note to buy a new light bulb soon.

_If only my skin were dark enough to hide the bags under my eyes,_ I mused wryly as I peered into the mirror, all ebony skin and wildly curly hair. Sadly, the bags under my eyes likely would never leave. Brushing my teeth was oddly calming, this morning in particular, and I took the time to kick-start my brain.

_What to do today…_ I blinked as I realize the date. _Oh, that’s right, it’s the eighth, isn’t it? It’s not the weekend yet. Damn._ I hurriedly picked up my makeup kit and applied a light coat, before rushing out of the bathroom.

Something felt off about the day, but I couldn't place my finger on it. I didn't dwell on it too much, though; I just assumed I'd remember if it was important.

I threw on my uniform for the day—nothing fancy, a simple shirt and shorts for today. Luckily, Brockton Bay’s climate is fairly temperate year-round, which generally gives me a lot of leeway with my clothing options. I didn't have a large variety of clothes, but what I did have, I tried to keep as clean as possible. Luckily, I have a trench coat that helps.

I picked up my keys and school bag and headed out for the day.

* * *

Honestly, I like high school. Most of my fellow students are annoying, obnoxious gang members, and it’s obvious that my teachers don’t care about me in particular, but it’s a much nicer place than what I’m used to, and, of course, no need to worry about the food situation. Bless the NSLP.

Also, thanks to my power and lack of secret identity, no gang member wanted to pick a fight with me, regardless of how they felt about my skin color or whatever they felt like picking on for the day.

After classes were over, lunch break. I picked up my food and ate at a brisk pace.

Another girl came up to me from behind and pushed on the table, whispering in my ear, "Hey, power-sleuth."

I groaned in dismay. "Hess." I turned my head and gave her my best attempt at a glare, most likely not helped by the bags under my eyes.

Behind her were her ‘friends’, Barnes and Clements, pushing a very familiar girl to the ground. My eyes widened, both at the display and what my power was showing me.

_Well. This is new._

I couldn’t recall if Hebert was always a parahuman, or if it was a recent thing, but since neither Barnes nor Clements were, I figured I’d try to make sure nobody died. I stood up, but Hess’s firm grip shoved me back down.

I gave my best attempt at a withering glare. "Don’t you think you’ve done enough?" From the amused smirk on her face, it wasn’t successful at all. _Dammit._

"Relax, power girl. Hebert’s a loser, she’s just getting what’s coming to her."

_Oh, she did_ **not** _just say that to me. With a straight face._ I rolled my eyes. _Of course she did._ "I don’t really care what you think. You’re not gonna do this shit in front of me."

Hess’s eyes widened, then she smirked. "Okay, power girl. Let’s just take this somewhere else."

"Or," I replied, sipping at the school-provided milk. "You can stop, now, and I won't get _involved_." I emphasized the last word as a hint to Hess to back off, which she understood and backed away, hands up, still smirking.

"Ems," Hess called behind her, waving her down. "Not now, okay?"

"The fuck? Wh—," Barnes started, before flinching. "Oh, _shit_ , I didn't see you there!"

"Evidently," I muttered, before turning back to my meal.

Hess placed a hand on my shoulder, and ignoring my flinch of surprise, whispered into my ear, "You owe me."

"No, I don't," I replied, turning my head slightly towards her. "I'm still up three favors. From _last_ time."

Hess rolled her eyes. "Fine," she acquiesced, removing her hand from my shoulder. The three girls walked out of the cafeteria, leaving Hebert on the ground, shaking tremors wracking her body. She slowly rose up, and I paid her very little attention, turning back to my food in earnest, until she turned to leave.

"Hebert," I called out, turning again towards her. She jumped and swiveled to me, eyes wide. "Sit." I patted the seat next to me, and while she very obviously didn't want to be anywhere near me (or in this cafeteria at all), she slowly, awkwardly inched her way towards me.

Placing whatever remained of her bag on the seat, I placed my hand on it. I looked up at her, still standing awkwardly, and raised an eyebrow. "May I clean this?"

Hebert stuttered but eventually acquiesced, and I moved the bag under the table. Then I looked back at her. "Sit."

Hebert finally moved to sit.

"It takes a brave soul to come into the cafeteria, after years of abuse," I tell her quietly, and her shoulders relax fractionally. "Especially since you have powers and haven't used them yet."

At her severe flinch and wide-eyed panicked glance, which I match with a raised brow and an unimpressed look, I continued, "I'm known for a _reason_ , Hebert, and while I'm impressed you've hidden it for this long, I'm less amused that you thought you could keep me uninformed."

Her shifty eyes ran over the rest of the cafeteria, watching as other students socialized with each other, occasionally glancing to either me or her. I shrugged. "Don't worry about me keeping a secret; I'm very good at what I do."

"B-but," Hebert finally said, but I cut her off.

"So, why did you come here? I would have thought you'd just skip class again," I asked her. I knew why, of course; I always ate lunch at school, and everyone knew that, so it wasn't exactly difficult for people to get into contact with me. And it wasn't hard to figure out that a new parahuman would be _very_ interested in getting into contact with me.

Powers came with _some_ instructions, so that their users don't kill themselves, but often parahumans failed to live up to their full potential. I tended to serve as a parahuman consultant because my own power came with an ability to get a read on powers, and how to use them to their fullest potential. Of course, I'm a power copier, but often that's an acceptable consequence in exchange for learning how to use powers to their fullest.

"Y-you noticed?" She sounded so heartbroken that even my cold, decrepit heart felt a pang of sympathy. _Probably thought she was being sneakier than she actually was._

"Some teachers notice, and I notice by extension," I replied. "Not enough of them notice, though, obviously. But enough about them," I continued, finishing off my plate and standing up. "Let's talk about you. We'll walk and talk."

"We-we're just...walking out?" Hebert said in confusion. I tossed her her bag and she caught it; she looked relieved when she noticed the juice stains were gone.

We did, in fact, just walk out.

"If anyone asks, just say I have a job interview for you," I replied once we were out of earshot. The bell rang, ending lunch, but neither of us really cared. "It's true enough, but not the whole reason."

Walking out of Winslow while school was ostensibly still in session meant that no student was outside, except for the gang members that gave less of a shit than I did. I fished for my keys, as Hebert was looking around, panicked.

"Don't worry, Hebert," I said, pulling my keys out of my bag. "I still have some small favors I can call in. Nobody will know, and even less will care."

* * *

"Boss, I have a customer," I called out into the derelict storefront. Driving here was a pain, with Hebert gripping the armrest too tightly, her squeaks when I pulled sharp turns, her face paling further every time I weaved through traffic. _I'm not_ that _bad of a driver_. My crazy driving was usually justified, to remove the chance that anyone was tracking us, just in case. I tried telling her that but I don't think it was a valid justification, in her eyes. I also tried explaining that the car only _looked_ like a piece of shit, it was layered with tinker tech that made it run smoother than it looked like it should, and that the silent vibrationless driving only gave it the _illusion_ of being faster, but that didn't seem to earn me any favors, either.

I didn't really see the problem, since I was still well within road laws.

A masked doll face peeked out behind a mannequin, making a noise of inquiry. I made sure to shut the door firmly.

"This is the new hero Weaver," I motioned to Hebert, using the name we hashed together on the way over. Hebert was wearing a domino mask but not much else in the way of hidden identity. "As you can see, she needs an outfit."

I could tell my boss was frowning under her mask. "We don’t make outfits."

"Oh, n-no, I already have one," Hebert stuttered out as my boss made her way to the front. We drove by her house to pick it up on the way over, and she held it in a box, so I didn't get to see it until she revealed it to both of us.

"It's a little dark for a hero," my boss said, echoing my thoughts. Hebert, Weaver, looked embarrassed.

"The, uh, the dyes didn't come out right," she muttered.

"That's fine, we can re-dye it," I stated confidently. "Maybe add some extra bits to make it less edgy. Come, I'll start it now."

"Um, I can't pay for any of this," Weaver said, shakily. "Even I know Parian's work is expensive."

"It's fine, it's coming out of my paycheck," I replied, opening the box of dyes my boss kept in storage. This particular box wasn't packed away, yet, which worked out. "You can pay me in favors. Two favors, one unconditional, would work as payment."

"Um, sure," she said, bewildered, before sobering. "Why...go through all this effort? For me?"

"An apology," I replied sadly, lowering my voice so my boss couldn't hear. She, in turn, turned her head and pretended not to notice. "I couldn't get you out of the locker in time. I had thought…" I shook my head. "No matter, excuses won't help. The point is, I didn't know you were there until it was too late, and for that, I apologize." I bowed my head, but saw enough of her tense body to know that she was upset. Furious, by the clenching of her fists. But after a little while, she relaxed a bit, and offered a half-hearted smile that I caught the tail end of.

"It... it's fine," she muttered. "I know you and Sophia are... _friends,_ " she spat out. She looked like she wanted to say more, but I raised my hand to stop her.

"Let me be clear: we aren't friends," I told her frankly. "I just happen to know Hess well enough from past experience. That's all." I shrugged. "Hell, you and I, we aren't friends either. I...in a way, I'm just doing this because I felt bad." Hebert's face turned an interesting shade of red, and I could hear her teeth gnashing.

"You're just—fucking— _pitying me?!_ " Weaver shouted, grunting out the last words as her teeth locked into a rictus of fury.

"It's more complicated than that," I replied primly. "It's really a combination of things; I do, genuinely, believe that you could be a good hero, but one of the reasons I'm doing this is sympathy, yes." I smiled at her sudden bewilderment. "I'm not going to lie to you, Weaver. I think you can change this place, this city, for the better, and I want to help you. Do my reasons really matter?"

In the sudden silence (punctuated by the sound of my boss's sewing machine thudding) I picked up a dye and showed it to her. "What colors should be your main ones? I'm thinking green as a primary, maybe some light brown as a highlight. Or pink?"

"I—you’re just admitting you don't even care," she said angrily. "Then what the fuck? You don't…" She groaned in frustration, rubbing her temples.

"I like to think I'm a good person," I told her. She looked at me warily. "Good people generally try to help out others. I might be financially unstable," _understatement,_ "but I'm not about to leave a new parahuman alone on the streets when I'm willing and able to help." Weaver just...blinked, clearly at a loss. I tilted my head. "Do you think I'm a good person?"

She just stared at me. Slowly, she turned her head towards the dye, then towards the ground. I could almost see that a swarm of bugs outside was starting to flicker and fluctuate, and Weaver's shoulders shook a bit, but eventually she responded.

"...do you think...gold as a highlight?"

I smiled. "Sure."

* * *

Parian kicked us out after the dyeing finished. Awful nice of her to let us wait that long, but it took a few hours for the dyes to dry out, so we left it in the shop. Thankfully, the shop was closed on Fridays, which let us work on the coloring for as long as we did; the suit was mostly a lighter shade of green that more closely matched fresh grass, or a rainforest canopy in the summer, with gold highlights that accentuated the insect aesthetic. The chemicals in the dyes were also designed to be nearly bulletproof when hardened, and Weaver informed us that the suit’s material itself was black widow spider silk, which was supposedly bulletproof itself. My boss looked interested at this, so she offered Weaver a small contractor role: provide the material, and she would pay her, for every foot of material to work with. I then gave her the shop’s phone number (on top of my own cell phone number) and asked her to work the details out with Parian later.

I offered Weaver a ride home, but she paled and shook her head vigorously, insisting that she could take the bus. Oh well.

Halfway to home, my phone rang. _Armsmaster?_ I tapped the answer icon on the screen. "Lottery speaking."

"We’ve got a situation," Armsmaster said. I frowned, both at his brusque tone and at the emergency. "Panacea is en route to PRT HQ. Are you able to assist?"

"It’s that important?" _Dumbass,_ I told myself. _Armsmaster wouldn’t call if it_ wasn’t. "I’m on my way."

Armsmaster hung up, and I scowled. _Dumbass_ , I repeated in my head. I pressed a button on the dashboard screen, which recalibrated a course to the PRT headquarters, and drove off.

* * *

Arriving at the PRT HQ, I was ushered into the secure hospital wing. One of the many perks of being a known neutral party in the city meant that everyone knew who I was, including, obviously, the PRT.

While I did, at least, make sure to put my iconic overcoat on, I didn't use a mask anyway because I have nothing to hide. One of the very few perks of living alone.

Panacea shuffled around some busy nurses, very obviously exhausted, but determined to keep pushing. Her face brightened as she locked eyes with me.

"Charlotte," Amelia breathed, gratefulness and relief exuding from her tone and facial expression.

"Amelia," I replied, idly amused at how her face scrunched in distaste.

"That's still not—," she started, before shaking her head. "Never mind. Are you ready?"

"What do I have to do?" I asked, donning the face mask. Another nurse tossed me a hairnet and I dutifully put it on.

"What do you know of the situation?" Panacea also donned a face mask, although she didn't really need to, it was more hospital procedure than anything.

"Assume I know nothing," I offered, and Panacea's brow furrowed.

"Nobody told you?"

"Armsmaster called me."

Panacea rolled her eyes. "Yeah, OK, that would be why. We've got a teen male who thought it would be a good idea to jump into freezing waters off of his friend's boat. It was shallower than they all thought, and he ended up smashing his head and torso into some rocks. There's some minor brain damage I couldn't fix, but the parents insisted on doing whatever it took to fix it, so we called you in. You came fast enough to also help me repair his ribcage, I avoided it once they said you were coming in."

"Right." While Panacea _could_ alter brains, it was more accurate to say that she _wouldn't_. Which made sense—the brain is a complicated organ, and the smallest change could completely alter a person's personality, and having that much power scared her. Her rule against touching brains made perfect sense as a restriction on what she would safely be able to do.

However, as I borrowed her power, I was under no such compunctions. A bit of a loophole, but a valid one, nonetheless.

"The rest of the body is fine, though," Panacea continued, opening the door and walking in. I followed her. "I left holes in the skull so that you could work easier."

"Understood."

* * *

While Panacea started healing the patient’s ribcage, I held the organs in place so she could work faster, I did a full brain scan on the patient in preparation for my own role, using the holes in his skull to orient myself. When she finished with that, we switched roles; I started healing his brain while she observed. This was a role we played effortlessly, a sort of miniature checks-and-balances system, where Panacea would observe and stop me if I was overstepping, and vice-versa. While I might have a copy of her power, there is a certain feeling that complete control of biology grants you, and as addicting as it is there’s not much of a counter to the vice.

Midway through the healing, I stopped. "Panacea, I think there’s an active Corona Pollentia on this patient. Mind double-checking?"

Panacea nodded, and started scanning the brain to double-check. "That’s correct—it seems to be a recent trigger. A lot of the injuries were already healing when he came in, but the damage was a lot worse when he came in." I grimaced at the idea—there were already several holes in his brain I had to fill. "His parents already filled out the paperwork for him."

"Understood."

* * *

It didn’t take much longer after that; the boy was still sedated, and we let the drugs dissipate naturally, which gave his body time to heal and re-adjust. We walked out of the room, satisfied, and Panacea nodded to the nurse standing outside the patient’s doorway, who nodded back and rushed in.

The parents of the patient both looked harried and nervous; at the sight of us, they ran up to us and asked about their son's health.

As bad as Panacea's bedside manner is, I'm _worse_.

Panacea told them, "He's fine, he'll wake up whenever."

I told them, "I expect your payment in full in the next week."

They looked horrified at our dismissive words. Neither of us stopped walking.

Panacea and I surreptitiously high-fived when we were out of sight of them. Armsmaster met us both in the exit hallway. "Panacea, Lottery, good work."

"I expect emergency pay in my account," I told him.

Armsmaster nodded, grimace on his face, but he didn’t say anything.

We both thanked him, but as he turned to leave, I called out. "There’s probably going to be a new cape, soon," I told him as he hesitated in his step. An arm went up in a sort of questioning gesture, so I elaborated. "Weaver. She controls bugs. Unknown area of effect but obviously extreme multitasking is involved."

"Understood," Armsmaster acknowledged, continuing his walk away. Panacea looked at me.

"New cape, huh? Is she cute?" she said with a smirk, and I shrugged.

"Well, yeah, but don’t worry, babe," I said, wrapping an arm around her. "You’re my bestie forever."

She squeaked and blushed hard. I just grinned at her. She looked shyly at me and adjusted a lock of hair. It was cute.

A cough rang out from in front of us, and I turned to look at Glory Girl, who simply smirked and floated in the air. I raised a hand towards her. "Hello, Glory Girl."

"Hey, Charlotte," she waved, before rushing down to grab Panacea’s arm.

"Are we still on for bowling next week?" I asked Panacea, who rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Sure," she said, in a wistful tone. "I'll see you there." Glory Girl adjusted her grip on Panacea so that she was being held in a strange bear hug-like formation.

"See ya!" With that, Glory Girl zoomed off out of the hallway, Panacea dangling from her arms like a limp noodle. It was adorable and also hilarious; I was absolutely going to needle her about it for a while.


	2. Taylor Hebert: the Origin

The sun's rays peeked through the clouds as I woke up, colors cascading through my bedroom, prismatic, radiant.

It really didn't fit the general appearance of my residence, but it looked nice, nonetheless, and I was put in a good mood by the sight.

I had called up Hebert two days ago to arrange a drop-off. The outfit we left in Parian's had dried completely over that Friday night. Yesterday I had delivered it to her house, which I only got the information after a lot of finagling. It was in a nondescript box, of course, but I also gave her the idea to talk to her father about the idea of being a hero. She said she'd talk about it with him in the way that a teenage girl talked about something she absolutely would not do. Oh well, I tried.

Today, though, I really didn't have anything to do. I had finished my homework for the weekend last night, and PHO had no new messages for me to answer, which was nice. I had a long, fulfilling, but most importantly _peaceful_ , day—standard boring grocery shopping and house cleaning, but at least it was _normal_. I even got a nap in. It was nice.

So, at night, I went out for a walk. I figured it would be fine, since I had my iconic overcoat on and it was a really nice day.

Walking around the docks, on the way home, I saw the gang colors of the ABB plastered everywhere. I sighed, but kept going, hoping that people would recognize me before they tried to kill me. I had a lot of favors saved up from various gangs, which is why I knew none of them would intentionally try to kill me—if they tried, they would meet their early death from either Kaiser, Lung, or Mush. I tried to get Skidmark onto my system but Skidmark doesn’t really play well with favors, so I’m grateful Squealer and Mush were, at least, and I guess Squealer’s appreciation kept Skidmark from trying to break the system. At least Lung was nice enough to play well with the system, even if he was being patronizing about it—Kaiser took a while to get on board, but I wasn’t really willing to play nice with him so I forced him to accept my system. It was very therapeutic.

Even if they didn't intentionally try to kill me, though, I was still a teenager, and a female minority to boot. I wasn't looking forward to having to fend off anyone long enough for them to recognize me.

The recognition was part of the reason I took to an iconic outfit in the first place.

I was grateful for the overcoat and the beanie once again, as another burst of chilly wind brushed against the street. Luckily, despite my paranoia, nobody accosted me around the area, which was nice. I hoped that the peaceful nature of this walk would last all ni—

I saw smoke in the distance.

 _You don’t have to do this,_ I told myself, breathing deeply. _There’s no reason to play the hero. You had such a good day today. You can just go home, take a nice bath, go to sleep comfortably without butting in._

 _Goddamnit,_ I said, striding forward anyway, hands in my pocket and scowl on my face. _I’m too damn_ nice _sometimes._

* * *

I walked over to where I knew Lung would be, judging from the size and quantity of the smoke, and I nearly stumbled at what I saw.

_Weaver?!_

The bug controller was on the ground, clearly in pain, breathing heavily and going into shock. Lung was ambling closer to her, ready to kill. Suddenly, I watched him keen, and list off to the side, and he fell, massive body barely missing Weaver.

I couldn't help it—I ran towards her. Weaver's bugs poked at me, and she turned her head to see me; once she recognized me, she visibly relaxed and the bugs came off of me.

"What the hell," I whispered, as soon as I was close enough to see her injuries. "Weaver, you ballsy idiot."

She chuckled weakly, coughed once, then groaned in pain. "Yeah, I really am."

"The hell were you fighting _Lung_ for?" I knelt down and lifted her mask up, just a little, to get skin contact with her neck, and switched powers to heal the major problems. _Several broken ribs, shattered wrist, broken kneecaps…_ I could only pray that this was a one-time occurrence.

I was mildly surprised that the fabric of her outfit didn't have any tears or other defects, but I was more concerned with other things at the time.

"He was going to kill kids," she defended weakly. "I couldn't let that happen."

I shook my head. "Weaver, you kind-hearted goof."

Weaver protested, and I carried her bridal-style, which she also protested.

Lung stirred, and I'm not too proud to say I froze and darted away like a terrified deer, but that's exactly what happened. (On the one hand, yes, he owed me favors, so it wasn’t likely he was going to kill me. On the other hand, _Lung_.) Thankfully, I heard a motorcycle come to the scene, and when I got behind a building to safely look at the scene, I saw Armsmaster taking out his halberd and examining Lung.

I carefully put Weaver down, ignoring her hisses of pain, and walked back around the building, towards Armsmaster. I felt a lot more confident dealing with Lung, with an actual Protectorate hero nearby, so I approached said hero and waved.

Armsmaster waved back. "Do you know what happened here?"

I nodded. "Yeah, new bug girl took down Lung by herself. I'm so proud." _Also terrified_ , I didn't say, because my smile felt shaky enough that even Armsmaster would pick it up.

"With bugs?" Armsmaster sounded disbelieving, and for good reason, the thought was ridiculous, but I nodded again.

"Pretty sure she sent venomous insects into his mucous membranes," I told him. "I don't know how many, but obviously enough to take him down."

Armsmaster scratched his head, before shaking it and pulling out his halberd and pointing it towards Lung. I quickly realized his plan and shouted loud enough to startle him into putting it down.

"That is a remarkably bad idea," I told him, and he looked at me, clearly irritated.

"It's a Dragon-made sedative designed to take down large foes," he said, and I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"It's a sedative on top of the spider venom already in his body," I replied.

He actually scoffed at that. "How many spiders could that possibly be?"

I stared at him in silence for a bit as he shook his head. "As many as it takes to take down _Lung_ ," I told him, surprised he somehow didn't get it. "The only thing still keeping him down is the fact that the venom is _trumping_ his regeneration. I was only here for the end part, but Weaver kicked his ass with what looked like an entire city block of bugs."

Armsmaster hesitated, then, and poked at his halberd, presumably to alter the dosage, then pointed it at Lung again. This time, he fired, and it pierced through Lung's still-hard outer scales. Lung trembled a bit, but eventually the sedative kicked in, and his body slowly changed back into a normal, if large, human male.

I walked towards him, then, and knelt down. Still using Panacea's power, I touched his shoulder, and winced. " _Jesus_ , Weaver," I muttered, realizing the extent of the damage. "Did you really need to tear off his gonads?"

Armsmaster clearly heard me, and winced slightly. I frowned, and looked at him. "Clearly self-defense, on Weaver's part." Armsmaster looked at me, and nodded, without saying a word.

I let go of his arm and turned to Armsmaster, standing up. "He's definitely good for another ten minutes at least. I neutralized the spider venom, since your sedative went through, but you're gonna need more to keep him down." He nodded and adjusted his halberd. I continued as he injected another dose. "Definitely blind, and as I mentioned, no gonads, but it seems to be regenerating at a fast enough rate that I don't think I need to influence its regrowth." I also didn't want to abuse Panacea's power, so I stopped myself from doing anything severe.

Armsmaster nodded. "Good work." He bent down to wrap a cable around Lung, a massive steel cable that kept Lung in place securely. I'm not sure where the cable came from but I wouldn't be surprised if the halberd dispensed it.

I shook my head. "I didn't do anything, honestly. I got here way too late. It was all Weaver."

Armsmaster paused, then shook his head. "Is she still around?"

"Yeah, I left her behind a building, just in case."

"I'd like to talk to her."

I pointed to the building in question, and he walked towards it. I checked Lung, one more time.

The sedatives kept him unconscious, while I worked on fixing some problems I noticed. I didn't want to do it in front of Armsmaster, because the very idea scared the part of me that wanted to keep secrets. I wasn’t even sure what the secret _was_ , but now that he was gone I felt much less hesitant about it. I did hasten the regeneration, since the sedative seemed to have slowed it down faster than the spider venom could, but by the time I was finished he still only had one working eye and half a testicle. _Eh, it’ll grow back._ At least there was no danger of tissue necrosis. I pulled out a notepad, wrote a quick note on it, and stuck it in Lung’s pocket.

Satisfied, I followed Armsmaster.

* * *

I heard the tail end of a sentence that Armsmaster finished saying: "—two options. Option one is to join the Wards, where you’ll have support and protection if you need it. Option two is to keep your head down. I’ll take the credit, and you can fly under the radar."

"Heh, Armsmaster, already trying to get her to join the Wards?" I asked, amused. Armsmaster turned even as Weaver squeaked. It was good to see that she was standing up; less so that she wobbled even as she leaned on the wall. I waved to her and she lifted her hand up and did something that could generously be called a wave.

"It’s a good option for her," Armsmaster said defiantly. "It’s a good option for you, too, you know."

"Sure," I agreed, "but she won’t like that sort of high school horseshit. Hell, you guys have Shadow Stalker. And as I’ve told you, I’m not a fan of whoring myself out for the paparazzi."

Armsmaster looked at me, lips curling in disgust at the obscene metaphor, but his face smoothed out and he just nodded in resignation.

"I…" Weaver looked between us, frantically. "Can I have time to think about it?"

Armsmaster and I both shook our heads. Armsmaster explained, "People already know Lung went down. The PRT needs to make its announcement as soon as possible."

"Weaver," I said, making her look at me. "I’d actually suggest you do the second option, for now. You’re new to the scene and you really shouldn’t be making waves like that. Especially," I tacked on at the end, amused. "Not _this_ large a wave. Lung’s probably the biggest wave you could get, to stretch the metaphor."

"Or she could join the Wards," Armsmaster insisted.

I just smirked at him. "Really pushing hard for the Wards program. Yeah, I’d agree, the resources there are frankly insane, but you need to give her time if she _does_ want to join the Wards."

"I, I do, but…" Weaver hissed in pain, hobbling on one leg, and I walked up to her, placing my hand around the back of her neck, where her hair covered the skin-to-skin contact. I deadened the nerves in her ankle, and got to work fixing it; Weaver looked at me gratefully.

"It doesn’t have to be a decision to make _now_ ," I told her. "You can join when you’re ready. Really."

Armsmaster got the hint—I was sure that, as much as he wanted her in the Wards instead of on the streets, he also didn’t want another Ward who was only going through the motions—and nodded, pulling out a card. "When you’re ready to make a decision, call me. Here’s my number."

Weaver took it with an awed sort of detachment. "I...thank you," she said numbly.

"And if she decides to be like me?" I smirked.

Armsmaster did a motion with his head that I knew meant he was rolling his eyes. "I’d be disappointed, of course, but the PRT will accommodate."

Weaver looked at me. "Do _you_ have a team?" I shook my head. "Do I _need_ one?"

"I’d recommend it," I said a second before Armsmaster did. He looked at me, surprised, before I continued, "An independent hero usually only lasts a few months, a year at best, before being folded into a villain team, or worse. A team can help you watch your back, fill out your blind spots, and right now you have a massive one: you’re a Master, Weaver, and a baseline teenage girl besides. I know you have your bugs," I said, before scoffing. "I know you have a metric _shit-ton_ of bugs, but that just means you’re probably going to lose to any villain with pesticides and a good right hook." I shrugged. "But, no, you don’t really _need_ one."

"But you don't have one," Weaver insisted.

"I'm not a hero," I replied immediately.

"...I’ll think about it," Weaver finally decided.

Armsmaster nodded and walked off, towards his motorcycle. He revved it up as I double-checked my work on Weaver’s body. I took off my hand, smiling as Weaver tried out her pain-free legs.

"Call me if you need anything," Armsmaster called, over the roar of the motorcycle. I gave him a thumbs-up and he sped off.

"Do you really think the Wards would be good for me?" Weaver asked, timidly. Good eye; she obviously realized I was only talking about the Wards in such a positive light because Armsmaster was in front of us.

"In the future, sure, maybe," I told her. "Right now? You’d probably freak out and kill everyone."

"What?" She looked startled at the idea. "Why?"

"I can’t tell you," I said. "I signed some non-disclosure agreements." I obviously wasn’t going to be the one to tell her the identity of Shadow Stalker, and until she moved out of state it was safer for everyone to make sure Weaver never joined the Wards.

I looked at Weaver. "Do you need a ride home?"

Weaver looked at me, paled, started to shake her head, but her face twisted and she went with a nod instead. "If you don’t mind," she said, with...resignation? Odd.


	3. A Day in the Life

"Okay," I said, clapping my hands. "Let's actually do this right, this time."

I was, of course, talking to the outside of the house I was staying in, paint buckets strewn across the front. I had called Hebert up, earlier in the day, and let her know that I was skipping school, and she was welcome to come over to my place if she wanted.

Actually, I called up her father, apparently, and after I rattled off all of the information, he replied back in complete confusion, so I assumed Hebert never told her father anything about me. Which was a shame. So I introduced myself—surprisingly, he _had_ heard of me—and killed some time talking to him before Hebert woke up. And then repeated the information again. Hebert seemed a bit enthused at the idea of visiting my home, but I figured it was more to get away from Winslow, which I agreed with. And then had to tell Hebert and her father that I agreed with the reasoning. Her father arranged a ride and a time that he'd come back to pick her up—I tried telling him I could drop her off, but somehow, and for some reason, she overheard me and was _very_ vocally negative about the idea—but she was still able to arrive at my place.

"You...have a nice place?" Taylor tried to say politely, but it ended up as a question.

I scoffed. "I know it's a shithole. No need to butter it up, but I'm working with what I've got."

I also tried calling Amelia, but the call didn't go through, so I assumed the Dallon sisters were already in school.

Hess picked up the phone, and started sounding enthusiastic about the idea of skipping school, but after I told her about my plans for the day, basically hung up on me. It was all a bit rude, really. Actually, nobody else really wanted to visit me, which was a shame, but I didn't really have a lot of numbers to call.

"Hey, Hebert," I called her from her position in the shade. "Do you want to wipe a favor off for me? I'm painting this wall. The front."

She looked at me, and then stepped out of the house to look at the wall. "Um. Sure?" she asked more than said.

I got her a paintbrush, a bucket of paint, and some instructions, and we went to work on the wall.

After a while of working in silence, I spoke. "Hey, Hebert."

"Yeah?" she said.

"How's Weaver doing?" I said.

"Oh, it's, um, fine? I guess?"

"That's good. Did she decide on anything, I wonder?"

"Um," she said, hesitantly. "I, uh, she said, uh, probably not the Wards? Right now?"

I made a noise of inquiry.

"Well, I, uh, she, she wants to, um, spend some time as an independent hero, first. Or even a rogue, like you. Maybe, maybe she could be a supplier? Dunno what she could supply though..."

"Mm, well, being a rogue is going to be hard, but she could sell spider silk, or common spider antivenins. I guess indies are fine, but dangerous. Tell her to call me if she needs help." I looked at her. "Also, tell her to get a cellphone."

"I—I don't..."

"Regardless of her personal hang ups, she will have to accept that getting a cellphone is going to be her primary mode of communication. I'll give her one if she wants, a burner, but that'll cost her another favor, and I don't think she wants to be more in my debt."

"I...she...no, I, don't really mind," Hebert said. I blinked. She clarified, "Being indebted to you isn't too bad."

"I...see," I said, not seeing. From experience, most people tended to want to clear up the debts as quickly as possible. Someone who didn't want to? Probably didn't think of the implications yet.

"You're the one who got me out of the locker," Hebert said quietly. "You could have ruined my life at any time, but...you haven't."

I felt my eyebrows raise in shock. "Well, _yeah_ , because I'm not an _awful person_."

"I don't...there's not a lot of people who would do that for me, nowadays," she confided. "I...are we friends?"

"We're not," I started, and she folded into herself very quickly at that, but was jolted out of her slump by me sticking out a hand. "But we could be, if you'd like. I'm Charlotte."

She looked at my hand, then hesitantly folded her own hand into it, looking at me with a brittle smile. "Taylor."

I answered her weak smile with a much stronger one, and that seemed to strengthen her own; her eyes looked more lively, with a spark of excitement on her face.

It was actually really cute. I told her so.

Her face lit up in pink, and she shook her head, stuttering horribly. "Wh, wh, wh, what are you t, t, talking about?"

"You're kinda cute like this," I told her, shrugging. "Not, like, attractive cute, I don't really know what that looks like. Adorable cute." I tilted my head, thinking about it. "Adoracute?"

She frantically waved her hands. "Nn, no, I, I'm not cute!"

I hummed. "Really." I brushed her shoulder with mine. "Stop being cute."

Taylor looked like she could blow steam out of her head with how much she was blushing. I groaned, and Taylor looked at me.

"That's also cute." Taylor looked like she was getting irritated, so I raised my hands up. "I'm just going to pretend that you can't control being cute, and we'll just move on."

Taylor sighed, returning her color to normal, and nodded. With that, we continued painting in peace.

* * *

I don't want to say the end result was any good, but it was loads better than the ugly decaying brown it used to be. As the time came for Taylor to get picked up, I hugged her, and she squeaked, wriggling uncomfortably. I let her go, and she shifted awkwardly, as I smiled at her. "Thanks, Taylor."

She looked at me, and then looked away with a blush. "Um, you're welcome."

"I owe you one."

"N—no, you don't have to..."

"I mean it." I was pretty insistent on this. "If you need me for anything, call me and I'll help you, no questions asked."

"I still owe you one, though!" Taylor also looked insistent on this. "Can't we just...compromise? Just wipe out my debt or whatever you do."

I looked at her and nodded. "If you'd like."

With that, I stepped back and watched Taylor climb into her father's car. I waved at them until they drove off, then stepped back into my house.

I was feeling pretty hungry, so I decided to cook some leftovers into a random, throw-it-all-together kind of dish. As I opened the fridge I realized I actually had some fresh fruits, vegetables, and even a still-probably-edible slab of meat. I had no idea what I could make with the available ingredients, so I went to check the Internet for tips.

My phone rang. I put it to my ear and continued searching for a recipe. "Hello?"

"Charlotte, did you read the PHO connections thread?" Taylor said with no warning. Sounded kind of panicky, actually. I blinked, and opened up the page from a bookmark. Parian and I both had accounts, of course, for business purposes in Brockton Bay. I normally checked out the site in the morning, in case I had any new PHO requests, but clearly something changed between then and now.

In the subforum there was clearly a post about Taylor's costumed identity, so I opened it.

"...Huh."

At a guess, she apparently saved one of the Undersiders—Tattletale, if I had to guess—and they want to repay her to thank her. Well, that's...nice of them?

"Taylor, have you heard of the Undersiders?" I said back to her.

"The small-time villain group? Yeah," she replied.

"I'm pretty sure you did something for them recently, in costume."

"I haven't gone out in costume since Lung!"

"Oh..." I blinked. A wave of realization hit me, and Taylor groaned at the same time. "The kids Lung was talking about..."

"It was probably them, right?" Taylor finished. "Damn it." I heard a thump on the other end.

"Right, well, I can go with you if you want."

"It specifically says not to bring you with me. Well, it says, 'don't bring L,' but I'm pretty sure that's you."

I groan. "I can see that, too. Makes sense, though, they don't want me to copy their abilities."

"...you can copy abilities?" Taylor asked.

"Well, yeah, it's how I'm a parahuman shard consultant in the first place," I told her. "It's part of the reason I'm really valuable as a Brockton Bay asset, and the biggest way I make money—I have a copy of Panacea's power, without some of her drawbacks, so I'm called in for emergencies, like, any time there's a brain operation. The patient gets healed, I get money, everyone wins."

"...did you copy mine?" Taylor sounded really defensive about this.

"I can't control it, Taylor, so yes. I can copy the abilities of literally any parahuman I see."

Taylor's breathing became erratic. I tried to crack a joke. "I'm basically Eidolon."

"I always preferred Alexandria," was Taylor's slightly amused but mostly freaked-out voice.

"So did I, actually, but I ended up being Eidolon." I shrugged. "Woe is me. I am woe. We are one and the same."

Taylor's responding laugh was tinged with hysteria.

"I don't know why you're panicking," I told her, close to panicking myself. "Look, Taylor, can I come over right now? I was going to make dinner, but, well, I really think I should explain, and the phone's, well, limiting."

"I..." With that one syllable, I could feel Taylor's hesitation to accept over the line.

"Taylor, I don't have a lot of friends," I told her. "You, and I guess Amy Dallon, are the closest I have to best friends, and I don't want to lose that." I felt my voice go softer as I continued. "I know you've had bad experiences in the past, but..." I breathed in, and took a leap of faith. "I haven't had _any_ experiences in the past. At all. Do you know how valuable my skill set is? People always, always treat me with caution, and deference, and never outright respect like Amy or you do. I hate it."

My fists clenched. "I hate the way they look at me, like I'm either lesser than them for relying on my power like a crutch—which I don't, Taylor, please believe me—or for being the answer to all of their problems, which I'm not, because I can't be, Taylor, I'm just one girl.

"Please." I sighed, emotionally drained from this conversation already. "Let me have this."

"...okay," Taylor said, meekly, very quietly, clearly still distrusting. "You can come over."

I breathed out, calming myself down. "Thank you, Taylor. I'll be there soon. We'll talk about it then."

"Bring a blindfold," she said, abruptly, before hanging up.

* * *

I drove over, and a man I could only assume to be Taylor's father was waiting outside of the door. I shut down the car and walked out, blindfold in hand.

Taylor's father had his arms crossed over his chest, looking stern. "You're Charlotte?" he asked.

"Yes," I told him. "Taylor's expecting me?" I meant to turn that into a statement, but Taylor's father was actually being pretty intimidating so it became a question.

"Taylor was bullied to the point of hospitalization," her father explained, and oh. Oh shit. "You go to that school, too?"

"Well, y, yes," I said, stuttering despite myself. I raised my hands immediately in a stance of supplication, trying to justify myself. "I never did that though! I mean, I never did anything against it, but I also didn't know she was in the locker until hours after! I would have helped her, had I known, I swear! I don't..."

"And you're friends with one of her bullies?"

"We're not friends," I immediately said. "Taylor and I are closer than I am with her."

Her father looked unconvinced, but still invited me into the house. I breathed out, relieved but still tense.

"Taylor, she's here," her father called out, guiding me into their kitchen.

"Tell her to put on the blindfold," Taylor called back from the other room.

Her father nodded at me, and I sat down on the provided chair.

Wrapping the blindfold around my eyes, I felt horribly uneasy as I also felt insects crawling around me. I sat there, though, trusting that Taylor would at least want answers first. I moved around uncomfortably, though, because regardless of my trust, it still felt really weird.

I heard a weird echoey voice talk to me. "On you now are ten black widow spiders. They can and will kill you with their venom."

"Okay," I said. I wasn't sure if it worked like that, but it didn't really matter.

"And, slightly out of your touch range, I have brown recluse spiders hovering over specific parts of your body to cause the most damage through their necrosis. If the black widows stop responding to my input, I will drop them and let them kill you."

I simply said, "OK."

Thus began the strangest two-hour interrogation session I'd ever had, with Weaver trying to get me to spill beans I didn't have. It was awkward, as far as interrogation sessions went, since I wasn't actively trying to piss my interrogator off, but it was a close thing.

Finally, she groaned, defeated. "OK, so this was a bust. Why shouldn't I just kill you and be done with it?"

"I trust you."

A growl. "Why?"

"Because," I turned my head to where I thought Weaver was looking. I was probably miles off, honestly. "If I didn't trust you, what would be the point of everything I've done?"

"I've trusted people before," she said, growl and echoing voice increasing. "They all broke my trust. Why wouldn't I do the same to you?"

I smiled. "Because I trust you."

The growl only increased. "Of all the—stubborn, foolish, _stupid_ —" The insects on the back of my neck shifted, and my blindfold fell off.

I blinked my eyes, adjusting to the light levels of the room. "You know, you didn't have to make this ambient lighting effect. I had a blindfold on, I couldn't see anything." It was a very nice effect though, making the interior of the house look like a villain's lair with how dark it was. "Also I liked that blindfold."

I froze as an insect dropped onto my nose. I didn't mean to, honestly, but insects were creepy and one just dropped onto my nose. I tried looking at it, but my eyes hurt from trying so I just stared straight ahead.

Weaver, unmasked, was glaring at me. Or, at least, I thought she was—I could barely make out the figure from the low light levels. I could at least tell she was unmasked.

"I can kill you," she hissed, voice echoing ominously. "It would be _so easy_. Just drop a few bugs on you and let them _eat_."

"I'm at your mercy," I said, smiling ruefully. "You could kill me at any time, I know that. Why would I struggle? I trust you."

"Stop saying that!" she shouted, echoing effect gone from her voice. "You don't, you, you _can't_..."

"Taylor, I trust you," I told her, using her real name. "I know it's difficult for you, to trust others, and that's fine, but please, let me earn your trust."

She growled again, in what I could finally see as frustration, but her father spoke up. "Taylor, I think she's telling the truth."

"What?!" She turned to him, voice heavily disbelieving. "No, she's clearly lying!"

Her father turned on the light, and I winced at the sudden light change. Taylor looked so worn down that it was surprising she was even still standing. Her father, on the other hand, looked just as stern as he did in his front door, and he wasn't even looking at me. "Taylor, you have her at your mercy. You have what I'm pretty sure are enough venomous bugs to kill a small horse. And yet _she hasn't done anything_."

"She _could_!" Taylor insisted. "She can copy powers! Hell, she probably has mine now and she could reverse my control!"

"But she hasn't, right?"

"I could, in the interest of fairness, break out of here unharmed with your power," I told them. They turned to look at me. "I'd have to take control of all bugs within your radius, but it would be possible. The question is, why would I want to?"

"B, because..." Taylor finally looked as if she was running out of steam.

"I trust you," I said, again, giving her a small smile. "You haven't killed me, and I'm defenseless and at your mercy. There's not a lot of people who would do that for me, nowadays," I echoed, ruefully repeating the words Taylor had told me earlier in the day.

Taylor slumped over from where she stood. Her father walked up to her, putting an arm on her back, and the bugs on me crawled off. I barely suppressed a shiver at the creepy feeling of the bugs.

"Fuck, I'm an idiot," Taylor said, putting a hand to her head. "I shouldn't be trusting you, not after Emma. But..."

I simply continued to smile at her. "Barnes is, and forgive me for saying this, something of a blowhard." She looked at me quizzically. "She follows in some asinine belief in the might of the strong or some nonsense like that. Likely something picked up from Hess." I shrugged. "It's silly. I just ignore it. Hess is _weird_ , anyway, and makes me uncomfortable."

"I, I thought," Taylor visibly looked hesitant to admit something. "I thought maybe you and Sophia were, friends, or something."

"No," I said, amused despite myself. "I don't actually like her at all. She's interesting, sure, but we're definitely not friends."

"So, have you two made up?" Taylor's father asked. Taylor jumped, startled.

"I, yeah, I think we're good," Taylor said, blushing. _She clearly forgot he was there_ , I thought to myself, amused.

"Good." Her father cracked a smile that made his face look years younger. "Because _good Christ_ , Taylor, I felt like I aged fifty years through that performance! That was _terrifying_."

"It's OK, sir, you still have many years left," I told him. "Also, please don't take this the wrong way but I'm more scared of you than I am of her."

He paused, looked at me, and grinned. "I like her."

Taylor sighed, placing her head on the desk with a whump. "I should never have told you I was a parahuman," she moaned. "This would be _way less embarrassing_."

"Are we..." I paused for effect, raising my eyebrows and looking as innocent as I could. " _Bugging_ you?"

Taylor groaned, and her father laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was struggling with writing the interrogation scene because the interrogator didn't actually want to hurt her target, and the person being interrogated had no intention of hiding anything from the interrogator, and the interrogator controlled bugs and I couldn't think of what kind of bugs she'd have access to in mid-spring New England, and also I have severe arachnophobia so I couldn't think of anything worse than spiders. The end result is this mess of a chapter, which was _supposed_ to be longer, but oh well. The next chapter is about twice as long and about five times more OP bullshit, because I'm me.


	4. The Heist

The day of the bowling meetup, the skies were dark, clouds heavy with rain. I was once again grateful that my look consisted of a thick overcoat, and one that Parian herself made sure was hydrophobic.

I grabbed an umbrella, anyway, just in case.

Thinking about Parian, I jolted for a second, frantically trying to remember if I told her I was taking the day off. I quickly calmed down when I remembered telling her about it. Parian was a great boss, and the storefront really didn't need to be manned since rarely anyone ever frequented—most of her business was conducted over PHO and our own online storefront, since it was easier, faster, and more convenient to just check online.

After performing my daily ablutions, I grabbed the keys to my car and headed towards the Dallon household.

* * *

"Hello, Amelia."

As always, I cracked an amused smirk as her mother grimaced in distaste, as she does literally every time I call her that. She deserves it, though. Amelia, herself, just frowned. "Charlotte."

I look over to Victoria, who also looked ready to go. "Hello, Victoria. You're coming as well?"

"Sure," Victoria said with a shrug. "I was planning on going on a date with Dean anyway," she said, not noticing Amelia's slight grimace. "But I figured we could double date."

Amelia protested that we weren't dating, but I think I shocked her into silence when I agreed. "Sounds fun."

Amelia frantically looked back and forth between me, who felt mildly amused, and Victoria, who was definitely amused. "Th-this is a _date?!_ "

Victoria laughed. I didn't. She stopped when she realized I wasn't. "If you want it to be," I told her, frankly, ignoring the surprised look on her sister's face.

"I…" Amelia's face burned scarlet, but she didn't protest.

"If you don't want it to be a date," I shrugged. "Then it's a friendly outing. I don't really care."

Amelia stood there, clearly lost in thought. Victoria just stood there, jaw dropping to the floor. "W-wait, you…?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"You're, y'know, a _lesbian_?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I like Amelia. She's cute."

Self-reflection was never my strong suit. I was pretty sure I wasn't a lesbian, but I wasn't sure what I was, and quite frankly, it didn't bother me and it didn't make me money, so I didn't really care. Amelia was cute, though, and fun to hang out with, so I wasn't too bothered either way.

Amelia finally, responded, face entirely red, "I...I don't think I want to date."

I nodded. "That's fair."

As we left the house, I offered to drive. The Dallon sisters never looked more like sisters, in the way that they paled and shook their heads in tandem. Victoria instead decided to carry her sister. I shrugged, not really sure why nobody trusted my driving, and headed to my car.

* * *

Bowling is fun. Amelia and I took one lane, while Victoria and Dean Stansfield, her boyfriend, took the other. It took a while to get set up, since we had to accommodate for powers, but once we did, I think I can say with confidence that we all enjoyed it. I did, of course, needle Amelia about being a limp noodle, which Victoria laughed at after I explained the joke.

Victoria, obviously, dominated; she actually had to hold back her strength in order to not break the point-counting machine or the entire lane, but she did that well enough that we only got yelled at once. Surprisingly, Amelia took second, having two turkeys (for the uninitiated, that's two three-strikes-in-a-row) and a lot more spares, besides. I was dead last, Dean edging me out by a few points, but I didn't really mind. I liked bowling, even though I was bad at it. Also, unlike Victoria, I was intentionally not using relevant strength-enhancing powers, so my score was far worse than it could have been—I didn't mind, though, since Dean didn't have a relevant power for bowling, either.

Every time Victoria and Dean kissed (which was often) Amelia would tense up. I would hold her hand or touch her shoulder and gently push a signal through her nervous system, calming her down a bit. She, of course, noticed what I was doing, and looked at me with relief.

Dean _also_ noticed what I was doing, and looked at me with gratitude, which I thought was odd. Victoria was oblivious, of course, but that's the norm with her.

The required ten frames were over, and we considered doing another round, but I looked at my dwindling funds and quickly refused. We went off to walk around the city for the day, instead.

Window shopping with famous superpowered people was kind of odd. I think Dean was the only one who wasn't openly outed as a parahuman, but people kept forgetting me—I did get a few waves and nods of acknowledgment, and a few people did come up to me to shake my hand, but it was a very small amount compared to the attention and gratitude that Victoria and Amelia got.

Victoria basked in the positive attention, of course; Amelia got more and more annoyed as the people kept coming. I brushed against her shoulder, and she started, turning to me. I gave her a small, sympathetic smile; she grimaced, but nodded at me in gratitude.

We walked past some windows, Victoria and I admiring some of the outfits, but the way Dean and Amelia were groaning or shuffling around despondently we figured we shouldn't spend too much time with clothes-shopping. I only planned on window-shopping, anyway, since I didn't have enough money to get anything.

We ended up walking past the Brockton Bay Central Bank. "I need to withdraw some money," Amelia said suddenly, and I blinked. She looked at our bewildered faces, and explained, "I just remembered I have to reorganize some of my funds. It's not really important, but since we're nearby, I figured I might as well."

"I'll join you," I told her, and Victoria echoed my response. Dean quietly tapped on her shoulder and whispered something, and Victoria looked mildly displeased, but seemed to agree with him. Amelia and I walked away, and they didn't follow.

* * *

When we're alone, Amelia is _hilarious_ —a snark machine with very little filter, although she was mostly whispering to me. In between chuckles, snorts, and full-on laughter, we walked casually through the street. Victoria met us outside the bank, I guessed that she dropped Dean off somewhere, and it was like a switch, how quickly Amelia shifted gears. Not that she was any less sociable, but she suddenly became far less snarky. Victoria's aura wasn't even up, either.

Amelia and I walked into the bank, while Victoria stayed outside. I think she flew off, actually, but most likely she was just hovering around the building.

"There's a bathroom here," I said in relief. Amelia looked at me, and I grimaced. "I need to go, I'll be right back."

"Um." She looked a bit poleaxed, but had the presence of mind to respond, "Sure. Yeah. OK."

I strode to the bathroom with purpose and determination.

* * *

I walked out of the bathroom (lighter and more relaxed) to see Amelia being held up against a dark figure, knife clearly at her throat. A girl in a skin-tight purple outfit was talking to Victoria, Glory Girl, who clearly pushed through a window, given that the windowpane was shattered. The entirety of the Wards lineup was standing in various positions near the entrance, except Shadow Stalker, who was outside, probably aiming. Closer to me, a girl with dogs, a large masked person, and a more effeminate-looking boy leaning on the wall. Literally none of these people noticed me. _Oh, goodness, I really_ can't _leave them alone for five minutes._

I blinked at the situation, and looked at the purple girl, and suddenly my brain could process solid theories based on minutiae. _Purple costume with a face mask, blonde girl, obviously teenage, probably an Undersider, probably Tattletale. Large grin on her face, has to do with cockiness. Confidence? Most definitely Tattletale._

Tattletale just finished wrapping up saying a sentence that I wasn't paying attention to, and I used my newfound power to focus on the situation. Panacea was slumping down, Glory Girl looked even more pissed, the dark figure looked bored, Tattletale herself was smirking in victory. _Panacea's depressed, Glory Girl is mad that Tattletale's words hurt her sister, Tattletale mentioned a 'dark secret,' not likely to be her sexual orientation, Glory Girl's fury, Panacea's resignation..._

I figured it was time to let that cat out of the bag.

"Yeah, her father's the Marquis. What's your point?"

Amelia looked up at me so quickly I thought she was going to get whiplash. This clearly jolted the dark figure—most likely Regent, but I didn't remember enough of their descriptions to be certain—enough so that he let go of her. Glory Girl, unfortunately, was too busy catching up to what I said to take advantage of the fact, and Regent just managed to grab her again. Tattletale's smirk faded and reappeared so quickly that it just looked like her mouth did a strange twitch.

I raised an eyebrow at the hostages, who were looking in shock, and at the gaping Glory Girl and Panacea. "It's on the public record. What are you looking at me like that for?"

("It is?" Amelia muttered, almost inaudibly. I needed to talk to her about it, because, _wow_ , the Brockton Bay Brigade's antics were declassified literally _years_ ago, how did she not know that?)

"Isn't it interesting how a so-called _hero_ is related to a villain?" Tattletale asked, smugly, looking back at Amelia. "One of the big-time villains, too."

I frowned, turning back to the conversation. "She was bound to be related to _someone_. That _is_ how babies work."

Tattletale waved her hand, dismissively. The room filled with smoke, as I realized the one holding Panacea was actually _Grue_ , and not Regent. Grue's darkness filled the room quickly, but I switched to his power—hoping that his power came with immunity to his own power—it did, awesome—and ran up to Panacea, kicking an off-balance Grue to the wall. The darkness cloud went with him.

"But, you know, Brandish never liked the Marquis. Isn't it interesting how she treats his daughter? As if she isn't a person at all, merely a tool to be used by New Wave," Tattletale smirked. Her power in my head let me know that she was actually panicking at how quickly I moved, which was interesting but not really useful. "Actually, not even that. Just a constant disappointment, huh, _Amelia_?"

"How _dare_ you— ," Glory Girl started to hiss, but I interrupted her by raising my hand.

"I'm going to stop you right there." Tattletale looked at me instead, smug look fading quickly as she realized how little I was affected by her statements. "I really don't care for you using my name for her as if it's an insult. That's pretty insulting on its own. Also," I slowly lowered my hand as I realized… "I can't actually defend Carol's behavior, that's pretty much spot on." Both Dallon sisters looked furious at me for that, probably because of the PR hit, but neither of them moved to deny it.

Tattletale suddenly grinned. "Oh, now aren't _you_ interesting."

I blinked. "What?" I don't consider myself very interesting at all. I'm actually pretty boring most of the time. Panacea gripped my arm, as if she was trying to steady herself, but since she was behind me I couldn't actually tell what she was doing.

Tattletale's iconic grin grew smug. "You keep people at arm's length all the time. You're scared, aren't you? Of being close to people?"

I could tell she wasn't expecting me to agree, as I proved when I agreed. "Of course. I'm completely terrified." Her smug look vanished instantly and she blinked, entirely off-beat. "It's a valid fear. I'd hate it if I grew to like someone, only for them to abuse me for my powers. Powers I didn't want, went through an unwanted hell for, and don't really need." I shrugged. "Knowing about the problem never actually helps with _dealing_ with the problem. So I don't have many friends. I know that. I've accepted that."

Panacea gripped my arm closer, a firm grip, before relaxing it. I took her sudden tug as a sympathetic motion.

"Except maybe Panacea," I allowed. "And a few others. But that's enough about me," I said, switching powers. "Let's talk about _you_ , Lisa."

I could see her eyes widening underneath her domino mask. "No, that's not it, is it? Let's see if I can't work out your birth name while I'm at it. Oh, wait," I paused as she paled, clearly horrified. "Your power already filled in that gap. How... _lively_." I intentionally stressed the word, and she very obviously got the hint, if her twitching body was any indication. Which, as I was still using her power, was basically an open invitation.

I didn't actually know her name. I honestly just used the name of a girl I knew from when I was a kid. In retrospect, I was surprised it worked.

If I were actually Tattletale, I'd have that well-practiced, annoyingly smug grin on my face. Instead, I took the opposite tack; I simply looked at her in bored silence, as if I already knew the information instead of just now receiving it.

"Grue! Bitch!" she shouted, voice cracking and clearly panicking. "Get her! Now!"

Darkness swarmed around me; unfortunately for them, I'd already seen Grue, and used his own power to see through his darkness. Grue came towards me, fist raised; I ducked, then grabbed his arm and carried him through, pushing the fog away from me. I then saw Hellhound's massive monstrosities come towards me. I switched to her powers and shrunk them, but they were still dogs, so I switched back to Grue's powers quickly and pushed the smoke out as quickly as I could, to disorient the dogs as much as I could.

"I'm kind of surprised," I muttered to Tattletale, who was the only other person in earshot other than Panacea. "You don't recognize me or something? This is probably the first time that's happened when I'm wearing the coat." I shrugged. "Weird feeling."

"Wh—," she started, only to pale even further, which I didn't think was possible. She actually looked dead on her feet, at this point. "Oh, _shit_ , you're Lottery!"

I raised an eyebrow. _She didn't get that earlier?_ I shrugged; I knew my power worked weirdly on Thinkers, so maybe she just got confused by my signals. I couldn't say for sure. Didn't really excuse anything, since a casual read-through of the prominent capes of Brockton Bay would show Parian and myself as the most prominent rogue parahumans, although being basically civilians it would make sense that heroes and villains would pass over us. A little _stupid_ , admittedly, but, eh. Tattletale's power tended to give false positives, so I didn't really blame her.

"Guys! This heist is a bust! We gotta go!" Tattletale cried out. I looked at Panacea to make sure that she was all right.

"Don't worry," Regent said from behind me, and I froze unintentionally. "I've got her."

I looked Panacea in the eye, which was actually really hard considering I couldn't move my neck, then looked up more, towards where Regent stood. It took her a few seconds, but her eyes widened as she got my meaning. Subtly poking at my ankle, she manipulated my neck muscles to simulate turning my head. I finally looked at Regent. "Is that what you think?"

Regent froze, clearly not expecting that, and I took the time to use his own ability against him. It was a slight delay, but I managed to take over one of his arms. Unfortunately, I had less control over him than he had over me, but what I did have was enough.

So I punched myself in the face as hard as I could.

A cracking noise, and Regent was down. I would've been, too, but Panacea was quickly healing my broken nose. As I turned to Tattletale, I could feel the bones in my nose repairing themselves, which would've certainly looked a sight.

"Take your teammates and go," I said, calmly, ignoring the cloud of darkness that only grew. I looked at Tattletale, really _looked_ , and she got the hint.

"Wait, Grue, stop! We're leaving," Tattletale said in a hurry, dragging Regent by the arms. She looked back at me and I switched to her power to ensure she got my message: _you **owe** me._ Her lips thinned but she nodded back at me.

"We can take her," the darkness protested.

"No, we really can't," Tattletale insisted.

"No, you really can't," I agreed.

"Hurt," a voice said from my side, and I turned to look at the dogs growing larger. At the same time, the darkness formed faster.

I rolled my eyes, switched powers, and took the hit. They tore into my shoulder and legs, which hurt, but I casually stood there and let them continue to bite me to pieces, without struggling. I'm pretty sure they actually managed to rip off an arm. The darkness retreated, and Tattletale and Panacea looked at me in shock. The dogs continued to try to rip me apart, which took all of two seconds before they were recalled by a satisfied Hellhound.

Around two seconds later, I regenerated, good as new. Grue's mouth metaphorically dropped, then, and he quickly agreed with Tattletale's assessment. "Let's get out of here."

Hellhound growled, and muttered, "Kill." Her declaration was extremely loud in the sudden quiet.

I didn't really feel like dying today, as most people tend to feel in general, so I switched powers again. As the dogs sprinted towards me, I started phasing through the floor; at the precise point of apparent impact, I slipped quickly through, letting the dogs hit each other.

I figured I'd show off a little while I was at it, so as I phased back up, I started doing the staircase walk. It was amusing. Panacea almost cracked a smile.

Grue tried to use his darkness on me, presumably to cancel my Shadow Stalker power, but Glory Girl was prepared, and punched him hard enough to crack open his helmet. She then quickly flew over to where I was, intent on punching some hellhounds, but Hellhound whistled, and the dogs retreated. One of the dogs ran over surprisingly quickly to where the other Undersiders were; Glory Girl jumped back in surprise, and by doing so, lost the chance to land a solid hit on the once-canine creature. The hellhound then picked up Tattletale and the still-unconscious Regent and ran to the other dogs, and another dog then picked up Grue and joined the pack.

They ran off in the direction of some PRT cars. If they wanted to get captured, well, good on them.

As we watched them flee, Glory Girl hovered behind me. "God," she said. "What a _bitch_." Panacea nodded, but I frowned.

"I don't think you should be so hasty," I said, and they turned to me. "You clearly had her beat physically, so her only real method of attack had to be the mental game. It's not that she's a _bitch_ , per se," I shrugged. "It's more that she had no other way to defend herself."

"Still," Glory Girl said, landing. "She's a _villain_."

I raised an eyebrow. "By all technicalities, I'm not exactly a hero, myself."

"...neither was my father," Panacea said quietly, looking ashamed. I slapped her in the back of the head; she jumped and recoiled at the sudden action, then looked at me, rubbing the back of her head and looking peeved.

"You're not your father," I said, in a manner that meant it was not up for debate.

"Yeah," Glory Girl said to her sister, hugging her; after a little while, Panacea rubbed the arms around her fondly, and I looked at them, wistfully, and then with a sort of realization. Glory Girl noticed, and tilted her head in confusion.

"You know how your outfit looks dumb? It still looks really dumb," I concluded, to Glory Girl's shout of indignation.

"The hell do you know about fashion?" Glory Girl shouted, letting go of her sister and bringing up a fist. "I should _deck you_ for that, you ass!"

I simply smiled at that and walked away.

_Note to self: don't look at friends with Tattletale's power._

* * *

The Wards accosted me, of course, trying to check that I was all right after the attempted robbery, and subtly trying to get information. I noticed Shadow Stalker far away from everyone else, though.

"I've already told you what happened," I told them, again, as they repeated yet another inane question about the events. I wasn't irritated with them or anything; I fully understood the whims of bureaucracy.

I just really wanted to get home.

"Look," I said, rubbing my eyes. "This is getting nowhere very quickly. Isn't a written report enough? I'll write something up and send it to one of you, OK?"

Aegis replied, "Well, we need to know what happened."

"I already told you the whole situation," I said, irritated.

"Lottery, 'villains attacked the bank so I drove them off' is not a satisfactory answer," he responded, torn between irritation and amusement. "How did you drive them off? Why did you just let them leave? Why were you there in the first place?"

I sighed. "In order: liberal use of powers, I thought the PRT could handle it, and ask Panacea."

Aegis rolled his eyes. "Well, I guess those are answers, but I'll expect your write-up in my email come tomorrow morning."

I saluted him. "Yes, sir." While I wasn't an official member of any aspect of the PRT, I was used to doing write-ups for them; I had a lot of the forms saved on my computer, and it didn't take very long to fill out. Certainly it was quicker than this stupid interrogation. After giving a few written reports to the PRT, it was deemed acceptable that I just turn in written reports instead of having to give verbal ones for most situations I ended up in.

I ended up in a lot of situations.

A cough drove me to look up at the Wards, and the newest Ward, a young and, quite frankly, gigantic man named Browbeat, waved his hand timidly. I raised my eyebrow. "Hello."

"I, hello," he said. I couldn't tell what his expression was, and I didn't want to use Tattletale's ability to find out, so I waited patiently for him to respond. "It's just, wow, I didn't think I'd meet the people who saved my life."

"I don't remember you," I told him bluntly. Browbeat gave a cough that sounded like an aborted laugh.

"Yeah, I guess it was just an average event for you, huh? I'm sure it was for Panacea, anyway." Browbeat took off a glove and shook out his hand to shake. I wore fingerless gloves, so there was barely enough contact when we shook hands, but there was enough, and I used Panacea's power to scan Browbeat.

When I finished, letting go of the handshake, I could feel my eyebrows at the top of my forehead. "You're that boy who fell off the boat."

Browbeat nodded.

"It's good to see you out and about," I told him, watching as he put his glove back on. "You're doing well. I hope your Wards career goes well."

Browbeat smiled. "Thank you."

"OK, I've sucked up to the newest Ward," I told Aegis, irritated. "Can I leave now?"

After giving them another confirmation that, yes, I _will_ actually do the paperwork (it would be a nice change in pace from doing homework), I waved good-bye, the non-busy Wards waved back (even Shadow Stalker), and I got into my car and drove off.

* * *

The Thursday night air was surprisingly chilly; I was grateful my iconic outfit was basically just a really thick overcoat and scarf. Walking into an abandoned area of the docks was probably not a safe idea for any other teenage girl, but I had plans to fulfill.

Namely, talking to the Undersiders.

Namely, talking to Tattletale.

It took a while to work it out, but I managed to extrapolate the most likely location of their hideout through careful observation of their movements, which I managed to pull off precisely thanks to Weaver's ability. _Need to remember to thank Weaver._

I walked up to their front door. After some rustling behind the door, Tattletale opened the door, eyes red and squinty, and I waved. "Hello. I'd like to heal you all."

I expected the door slamming in my face. I simply leaned on one leg and waited for it to open again. Tattletale didn't disappoint; after a few minutes, she inched the door open. I continued to stand there quietly.

"...what do you want?" she asked, quietly, making sure I couldn't see her.

"I'd like to heal you all," I repeated.

"...why?" she asked.

"I felt bad. Also, I wanted to talk to you about Coil."

She threw open the door, eyes wide. Instinctively, I switched to her power.

Her eyes twitched, and she flexed her fingers in an almost unconscious pattern, her grin frozen in a simulation of a smile. _Terrified that I know. Doesn't want anyone else to know. Apprehensive, but curious, about plans re: Coil._

I twitched a finger, and from the way Tattletale's eyes flickered to the movement, I knew she caught it. _I won't tell anyone._

Her head tilted down, very slightly, as she opened and closed her fist. _She'd be more willing to talk about him, but I need to give her more information to go on._

I twitched two fingers, tapped my thigh, turned my arm so my palm was facing out, squeezed. Her eyes widened, and she flicked a finger towards me. _Is that really?_

A light shoulder shrug told her I really had no idea. Her eyes flickered, presumably trying to fit together her preconceptions of Coil with the information I told her, then her eyes widened as she presumably realized it fit better.

She inclined her head very briefly. _Agreement, but still has reservations._

Fair enough. I nodded at her, and she retreated from the doorway, only to open it wider. Smiling, she said, "Come in," in a chipper, carefree manner that an onlooker wouldn't think anything of, while we both knew it was entirely faked.

I walked in, hands in my coat pockets. Regent was on the couch; as I walked in, he slipped off the couch and landed hard on the floor. Grue was sitting on the table, wearing what remained of his helmet. He looked up at me, enough so I could see the swath of bandages around his head, and furiously stood up.

Hellhound wasn't there yet, but I had no doubt that she was on her way.

Tattletale bounced to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. "Come, sit down!" I obeyed, sitting down casually. I eyed the other Undersiders, and neither Regent or Grue were using their powers, so I relaxed a bit, accepting the cup of water Tattletale was giving me.

"Why is she here," Grue said. It wasn't a question.

Tattletale smiled. "Why, my friend here is going to help us with all our injuries!"

I blinked, then looked at them. Grue sat back down, simmering. Regent slowly, carefully sat back down on the couch, wincing openly.

I said, "I'll heal your wounds, but that will cost a favor, each."

Grue and Regent both looked at me in confusion. Tattletale said, "She works in favors, not necessarily money. She prefers the idea of quid pro quo trades rather than fiscal identity."

I shrugged. "Not quite true, but close enough."

Tattletale smiled. "She feels that a person's dignity and honor is more valuable than currency. What a nice thought, even if it's extremely naïve."

"If the people involved have no dignity," I said, and meant _if the bastards refused to comply with my favor_ , "I'd kick their asses hard until they learned." I shrugged at their dubious stares. "It worked with the Empire."

Tattletale's smile dropped and she lifted a hand to her eyes. "I can't get a good read on you, and it's really annoying."

"Thinker powers tend to not work right on me," I told her. "Most mind powers don't work right on me, actually."

"You can heal me?" Regent said, almost lethargically, voice sounding nasal through the broken nose.

I nodded. "I have Panacea's power reserved."

"And in return, all I have to do is…," Regent continued, curious.

"When I need something from you, you do it, regardless of whether you want to or not," I said. "That's my usual rate."

"Sounds a little like being Mastered," he commented.

"So it is," I replied.

He tried moving his arm, which moved my arm. I moved my leg, in tandem, and his leg moved; he slipped off the couch, while I simply held a silly pose. Once I could move my arm again, I dropped my hold on him.

"That's how my favors work," I said, ignoring the display and putting my hands back in my pockets. "It's up to you if you want to take it. I also have conditional favors, where you're free to refuse but you're still indebted to me if you do say no, but this isn't what I want in exchange." I scratched my cheek. "I think all this info is on my PHO page."

"...sure," Grue agreed to my cost warily, and stood up. "What do I have to do?"

"Skin contact," I said, moving towards him. He took off his glove and I grabbed his bare hand, in a mockery of a handshake.

Grue grunted seconds later, presumably in surprise, as I healed his wounds.

"Do you want me to heal that?" I told Regent.

Regent smirked. "Sure." He yelped in pain, seconds later, as Tattletale slapped him across the face, jarring his nose even more.

"Play nice, Regent," Tattletale told him. "You're getting healed, anyway. Jarring it a bit more isn't going to do anything."

"Fine." Regent finally acquiesced, and I healed him. I stepped back and he ran to the bathroom, cradling his nose.

I heard the front door open, and shortly after felt teeth biting into my arm. It was painful and I winced unintentionally, even though the sleeve of my overcoat was thick enough to prevent it from hurting.

"Ow," I said, deadpan. I turned to Hellhound. "Do you mind not biting me when I'm trying to heal your teammates?"

Hellhound's eyes flickered to her teammates, then back to me. "Can you heal dogs?" she asked, bluntly.

"Thanks for asking, first," I said, inclining my head. Respect given is respect earned, after all, and it was more polite than I expected from her. "I've never done it before. I'd rather not try on any critical injuries."

She nodded, and backed down. A whistle, and one of her dogs ran up to her, yipping. It wasn't the same dog that bit me, thankfully. "Angelica has a cut on her leg," she told me. I frowned, and bent down to examine it.

I tried increasing the natural regeneration rate of the wound, and it seemed to work; the skin glowed red, still obviously raw, but not bleeding. I stood up and nodded to Hellhound. "That's all I feel comfortable doing." I could have gone further, but like I told her, I wasn't comfortable attempting to repair organisms other than humans.

She examined the wound herself. "Good enough. It'll heal. Thanks," she said, adding on the gratitude as a grudging afterthought.

"You're welcome," I told her. "Will you do something for me in the future?"

She frowned. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"I don't know what it is I want you to do, yet," I told her. "You'll be free to refuse, of course."

"Why does _she_ get a conditional favor?" Tattletale asked.

"I couldn't heal her dog all the way," I told him, turning away from the front of the house to look at her, before turning back and looking her dead in the eyes. "But I tried, and favors beget favors."

Hellhound frowned. "Fine. Whatever," she said dismissively. "Was that all?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. I'm gonna leave," I told the assembled Undersiders. "See ya."

"Wait," Tattletale shouted. "What about…?" Coil, she didn't say.

"Later," I said. "Contact me on PHO, we'll work something out."

"You're not gonna tell anyone where our hideout is, right?" Grue called out as I walked past Hellhound.

I turned around and sighed. "You people really need to read my PHO page. I _do_ keep locations secret, it's kind of a prerequisite to having good business. Anyway, hit me up if you need anything."

I said my goodbyes and left the area.

* * *

On my way home, my phone went off. My car's screen proclaimed that I had a message from Parian, saying that there was a rush order coming from Boston. I didn't mind driving her there, and told her so. She then replied that it was an immediate thing, or more accurately, that the actual event she needed to attend was early in the morning. I sighed, but got ready to drive us both there at six at night.

Driving to Boston was a fun time. I think Parian's the only person I've ever shuttled around who actually doesn't mind my driving; indeed, she was calmly working on a small stuffed animal as I drove to the neighboring city. We belted out whatever was on the evening radio together. It was great. I'm glad Parian's my boss.

We stopped over at a Boston hotel. Parian paid for it, out of her own money thankfully, and we checked into a two-bedroom room together.

Despite the whole bank robbery, it was a really nice day. I couldn't figure out why I was feeling like I forgot something, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If parts of this make no sense, that's because this was the result of heavy nonlinear writing and editing over the past three weeks; most of this was written long before the previous chapter was released, and I've already forgotten what I changed between the versions. Please let me know if there are any glaring errors in my reasoning and I will either a) write a long reply specifying how you're wrong, or b) actively strive to correct it. It's a bit of a toss-up, really.
> 
> As of this writing, I'm actively writing a side-story to this one, explaining character differences between canon and this story. It's basically the same story from another perspective. This story is entirely on Charlotte's perspective, and she may not be the most reliable narrator, but she's far too sane to be considered unreliable, I think.
> 
> Some small things I'm going to preempt:
> 
>   * Lottery is well-known among certain parts of Brockton Bay, but she isn't popular. People in the Bay generally know the name of Lottery, and are fully aware of what she can do, but thanks to the concerted effort of many different parties including Lottery herself, nobody really knows who she is and what she looks like, other than her iconic overcoat. However, some people have been directly affected by Lottery's efforts, and thus remember her from that.
>   * Yes, Amy gets paid for her work at the hospital. I find it hard to believe she wouldn't, so she gets paid. Rearranging funds is one of the many things I do in my spare time, so I passed that trait onto Amy, because 'write what you know' is a perfectly valid form of adding detail, damn it.
>   * Reiterating what I said in a reply to someone else: Lisa and Charlotte have never met. Now, while that's true, Charlotte's thinking of a girl that she went to elementary school with. Completely different, you see.
>   * Also reiterating this: Coil has also never met Charlotte. More than that, Coil is, at the moment, _actively avoiding her._ This is important for the future.
>   * Taylor's not in the Undersiders. I have reason to believe she probably blew them off. Taylor also told Charlotte everything that happened, which isn't in the story because it's not important to the day. (This chapter takes place several days after the previous one.)
>   * This Charlotte isn't Skitter's Charlotte. That should be fairly obvious, but in case it's not, there you go. Charlotte's a pretty popular name, I think, and that 'One Steve Limit' rule of fiction is something I've found to be needlessly silly.
>   * It's never mentioned anywhere, I don't think, but Charlotte is seventeen. She's a senior in high school, and she'd be preparing for college if, y'know, she wasn't an outed parahuman.
>   * Parian runs a side business on top of her puppet shows. I find it hard to believe she wouldn't, even in canon, since her power works really well with the textile industry, but it's especially notable here since her situation has changed from canon. I'm trying not to put spoilers, but yes, it has to do with Charlotte.
>   * I don't think Charlotte is overpowered, even if this chapter is about her curbstomping the Undersiders. Stopping them was easier than in canon, partially because Skitter's not around, but also partially because the Undersiders, even canonically, weren't a team for very long before this.
> 

> 
> I spent longer writing this end note than I did writing the next chapter. Don't expect one any time soon.


	5. Calm Like A Bomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop got stolen so I needed to re-setup my workflow. Thankfully, I had everything saved on some backup medium or another (in the case of this fic, it was on Google Drive); unfortunately, I couldn't just use my old workflow for various technical reasons, so I spent a while re-doing the entire thing. Most of this chapter was written before my laptop got stolen, so I've pretty much completely forgot what my original train of thought was. I tried salvaging it as best I could, but I probably missed some spots.
> 
> I forgot that Bakuda was a thing, whoops. Fittingly most of Bakuda's attack was done when Charlotte was out of town because I genuinely don't remember what happens during the attack. (Also I wanted to explore what would happen if an inserted character had very little to do with or during a catastrophic canon event, so. Turns out it's really boring.)

While Parian was off doing actual work, I wandered around Boston. As far as I could tell, Parian didn't really need me at all, just as a ride to and from the city, so I had some time to kill and went exploring.

I took a lot of pictures of statues. That was pretty neat.

Eventually I walked towards the PRT building. Finding myself at a loss on what to do with my time, I walked in and introduced myself. To my surprise, they recognized me, and I was given a blindfold and a nametag, and strict instructions not to take it off until otherwise prompted. These were the instructions I usually got when I walked into PRT buildings, the only difference being that this was Boston and not Brockton Bay, so I did as instructed and waited for the PRT agents to guide me.

The walk to wherever I was going was long and winding, but I felt Weaver's bugs around me and in the walls of the PRT building, so I wasn't particularly concerned about my own physical health. In my boredom, I had some of the ants walk around in rotating concentric circles. Behind the walls, of course, so nobody would notice it happening.

Finally, we arrived at a location, and I was instructed to take my blindfold off. I did so, and immediately got an eyeful of silver.

Well. Weld was certainly an attractive man, wasn't he?

"Hello," I said as calmly as I could. This was made exponentially harder when Weld smiled at me, and I willed my heartbeat to slow down. Sadly, that didn't work, but it was worth a try.

"You're Lottery, right?" Weld said. Ugh, that voice. How dare he sound as good as he looked. "We've heard about you. What brings you to Boston, if I may ask?"

"Pa---," I coughed, clearing my throat. "Parian, that is to say, my boss, had work to do up here. Last minute thing, you know how that goes, she called me to be her ride."

Weld raised an eyebrow. "So, nothing about Accord, then?"

"Parian didn't tell me who she was working for, so I dunno," I replied.

"Right," Weld said, and calmly rearranged items in the room. "Well, we know who you are and what your power is. Do you mind giving me a demonstration?" He sat down on an Ottoman, facing me.

"I..." I looked at him. Specifically, his beautiful bullshit silver eyes. "Maybe? Do I have permission to use your powers?"

Weld blinked. "...will it turn you to be like me? You're not, it's not permanent, right?"

"As far as I can tell, it's most likely not permanent," I told him. "I can switch between powers, after all."

Weld shrugged. "Then I don't see why not."

I switched to Weld's power. Immediately I felt my skin turn metallic, and I looked at my arm to see sterling silver. It was bizarre and honestly felt a little like a full-body massage.

I looked up to see Weld looking interested at the transformation. He tossed a plastic cup towards me, sending a wingnut at me; I absorbed it. "Can you turn it off?" Weld asked.

I did so, switching to Weaver's power, and I looked at my arm again. Normal skin. The wingnut fell off of my arm, having been only half-absorbed.

"Very interesting," Weld said, speaking neutrally. I picked up the wingnut and passed it back to him, placing it in the proffered cup. "The transition was quick. Surprisingly so."

I shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"Where's the other Wards?" I asked, if only to break the sudden silence.

Weld shrugged. "On patrol." He stood up and walked back towards the TV. "You can just wait around, if you'd like to meet them. There's some video games here, they're pretty fun."

"I've never played video games," I confessed. I'd never had time, but also I'd never really had interest. The closest thing to a video game I'd ever played was doing crossword puzzles on my phone.

Weld opened his mouth, and my phone rang immediately. I saw him shut his mouth as I turned towards my phone, checking the caller ID to see that it was Parian, and stood up to answer the phone, expecting to need to leave. "Hello?"

"Hey," Parian said, voice tinny over the connection. "I'm done here, I'm in front of the PRT building, pick me up?"

"OK," I said, before flipping my phone closed and turning back to Weld. "I'm so sorry, I have to leave now."

Weld waved it off, smiling a bit. He looked very friendly and approachable, which I logically knew was probably due to his PR training, but it made him no less attractive. "No problem; you do what you have to."

I smiled back at him, feeling a bit awkward, and left, walking to my car. When I got to the children's hospital, I drove around until I found Parian, standing demurely on the side of the road. She quietly and gracefully entered the car, and we drove off.

* * *

We came back to a chaotic, burning Brockton Bay. I blinked. "The fuck?" I nearly gagged on the smoke, and put a hand over my face to try to clear the air. Parian wrapped a mask around my face, and then turned on the car's air conditioner, which served as an air filter.

Weaver and the rest of the Wards sped past my stopped car, riding on motorcycles that looked to be Armsmaster-approved. I knew Weaver was around, as the bug that was on me had dispersed, but the rest of the Wards were a surprise. I opened the door, winced at the smoke that came through as a result, and hoped my car wouldn't keep the smoky stench for very long; waving at them, I saw Weaver already slowing down and turning around, the other Undersiders following her lead.

"Bakuda," Weaver said by way of explanation, getting off of her ~~monster beast.~~ motorcycle and jogging towards me.

"The mad bomb Tinker?" I said, in disbelief. "How'd she even get here?"

"ABB," Weaver said, before putting on some sort of Tinkertech breathing mask. She passed two of them to me, and I accepted it gratefully, taking off Parian's makeshift cotton mask and putting the breathing apparatus on myself.

Twisting a piece of the device, I felt the sterilized air flow through my sinuses. As uncomfortable as it was, I was glad it wasn't the alternative.

"When did you join the Wards?" I asked her.

Weaver's mask moved in a familiar way that I knew was the result of her frown. "I didn't. We're working together. Armsmaster said..."

"Let me guess," I said, wryly. "He forgot basic op-sec and the ABB found out you took down Lung?"

Weaver shook her head. "According to him, that couldn't have happened. The villains must have found out some other way."

I shrugged. I clearly didn't have all the facts, so I tried not to judge. "So the Wards are working with you for your protection?"

"No," Weaver said. "We're taking down Bakuda."

Surprised, I blinked. "Um. Wow, OK, you really don't do things by half-measures, huh?"

Weaver shrugged. I got the sense that she was embarrassed.

Parian spoke up. "You don't happen to have anything that can help with this, do you?"

I turned to look at her. "I don't think so? I mean, bombs. Tinkertech. I couldn't tell you."

Parian stared directly at me, and I knew she was deadpan staring at me. "I _do_ know how your power works, Lottery."

"I, well," I said, a little flustered. "I don't have anything now, per se, but I..."

"You do have Tinker powers, do you not?" Parian replied. "Try one of those, see what you can make."

I sighed, and did so. Using a Tinker's power in general was very uncomfortable; along with Changer and Thinker powers, Tinker powers were among the more disorienting category of powers to use. Using Leet's power, I had a grasp on creating random devices, and using Armsmaster's power shortly thereafter let me know how to make it more efficient and reliable. Ideas flew through my mind, and I flickered through my (admittedly limited) Tinker skillset trying to find a solution to the problem, but one stuck out the most:

A device to neutralize explosives.

I nodded, and threw Weaver my backpack. "I have a sandwich in there, get that for me," I told her, as I tore apart some of the scrap metal in my pocket.

I worked quickly, manipulating the scrap metal to approximate a circuit board, digging through my pocket and grabbing a pen, attaching various scrapped parts I had to the pen, tying them together with bits of cloth from my shirt, and I suddenly had a device that I felt could neutralize traveling waves of energy. Since Bakuda's device must have used some sort of wireless system to trigger the bombs, neutralizing the signal might work for disabling the bombs.

I didn't want to test it, because it was equally likely that the signal she sent would instead keep the bombs from exploding, so I worked in a sonic manipulator on the bottom with a few paper clips and a sheet of metal I pulled from my pocket, which should probably be able to liquify the bombs themselves, as a last resort.

"...Where are you keeping this stuff?" Weaver asked, baffled.

"Pocket space in my coat," I said brusquely, taking the sandwich out of Weaver's hands and biting into it. "Won it off a Toybox competition. Don't worry about it."

I genuinely could not tell you how the pen worked, only that it did, so I stuck my invention out and pulled out my phone. Texting the schematics I could remember to Dragon and the PRT (for Armsmaster), which took around ten minutes, during which I took pictures to append to the document, I pocketed my phone and stood up. "Okay so here's a device that probably works. I'd need to test it to see if the neutralizer actually stops the bomb signal from going off, but I can't exactly do that safely, but if that fails I have a second part to this device that lets me hack the signal."

Weaver blinked. Even the Wards looked baffled. "...You did that all in five minutes?" one of the Wards asked. I assumed it was Clockblocker, but couldn't reliably tell.

I shrugged. "Tinker bullshit." Weaver ahh'd as the Wards either nodded or shrugged (or, in the case of Shadow Stalker, continued to ignore me).

I handed the pen to Weaver, who handed my backpack back to me, and turned more fully to the Wards. "So, what's the plan?"

* * *

Thankfully, the plan wasn't designed with me in it, probably because I wasn't in Brockton Bay at the time. It was probably safe for me to simply be out of the way, given the distraction they planned on making, so I drove Parian back to her office and re-opened it properly. There wasn't much of a point, the roads were pretty empty apart from the burning cars and there was basically nobody walking around the area where the shop was, but a job is a job and I was just following along.

Parian sat down on her chair and immediately went to work. I looked at the piece of paper next to the desk, and marveled at her artistic ability. "Who's this for?"

"Gave the old one to a kid," Parian said, almost grunting. "Children's hospital wanted a whole puppet show, so I gave it to them, and let this one kid have the giraffe, so I'm just making a new one for future shows."

"Huh. That's...really nice of you," I told her. "The children's hospital? Didn't think you did those."

"It was an emergency request, the girl I gave the puppet to was going to be put under for an iffy operation, and it was her request to have a show. I think she wanted to be a puppeteer herself."

I leaned into Parian, smiling. "That's really nice of you."

Parian made a noise that was kind of similar to a grunt, but I knew she was smiling, too. She patted my head, then pushed lightly to move my head off of her shoulder, and went back to work.

I took out my school bag and sat in the storefront, quietly working on my homework.

Two hours passed quietly. Parian got up and made some quiche for both of us. I sent in some forms to the PRT about the Bakuda situation using the shop's computer, but since I was being hands-off about the whole thing I didn't have much to do on that front.

Digging into the quiche, I heard the telltale jingling of the door opening, the bell shaking as it always does. I looked towards the door to see a heavily disheveled Weaver holding my pen.

"Did it help?" I asked, holding my hand out.

"Yeah," Weaver said, limping towards me and handing my pen back. "Hurt like hell, but it saved lives."

I smiled. "Good."

Weaver hesitated, then asked, "Could you heal me?"

I felt my smile fade away. "...You're walking around on your own, so I'm strictly not legally allowed to."

Weaver tilted her head in confusion. "You did before, though."

"Your life was in clear and present danger," I told her. "It's the only time I'm allowed to use any of New Wave's powers, is if someone else is in clear and present danger." I shrugged at Weaver's palpable disbelief. "Blame Brandish."

Weaver groaned, annoyed. "God, this hurts, though."

"Boss, could you make a leg cast?" I called behind me.

Parian called back, "Sure."

I turned back to Weaver. "We could at least make a splint that should hold until you get to a hospital."

Weaver sighed. "I guess that's the best I'm gonna get."

I shrugged, feeling sympathetic but impotent. "Sorry."

"You don't want to heal her?" Parian said, from behind me.

I turned to her and shrugged. "Brandish is a bitch. I'm not dealing with _that_ again."

"Ah," she said, sagely. "I remember from last time. Good point."

"I never did get to see that one Nazi lady," I mumbled. "Wish I got her power, too."

"Wait, your only healing power is Panacea's?" Parian asked, as she navigated strands of silk around the leg of the person who she bought the silk from. "Thought you had more."

"Technically, yeah, just hers," I said, sighing. "Nothing else I have can really heal. I could give you some Tinker-made skin ointment, but," I shrugged. "That doesn't fix bones."

Weaver winced as we tied the splint around her leg. "Well, it's fine, I guess."

"Could probably numb the pain with something," I mused, thinking about what my current inventory was and if any of it helped. "We should still have some ibuprofen or something."

Giving her a few pills, she limped off, probably in the direction of the PRT.


End file.
